You can tell the deepest truths with the lies of fiction

Category Archives: #health

So, another negative thing happened to me, one of those I couldn’t predict or control and the first inevitable question has been: “Why do bad things keep happening to me?” and after venting with my irreplaceable friends, I tried to react. Nothing is working at the moment, here’s how I debunked every possible solution given to this question.

Even in the worst, there’s some good waiting for you. I tried to list down what’s good and what’s wrong in my life, I tried to ignore that the negative list is way longer and easier to be filled, but honestly, the glad game didn’t work. Because bad things are still there, unsolved, no matter how many things I’m grateful for are written in the other column.

Write down your history, analyse it, once you find the wrong patterns, you can begin to change your life. I could write an entire book, the problem still is: I have health problems who lead me to mental illness and don’t allow to have a proper job in order to earn the money I need to cure myself and get rid of an abusive relationship. The picture i very clear, how can I change the colour palette? Next.

Bad things happen to everyone. That’s the polite version of the sentence “others have it worse”. Given that it would be sadistic to feel better thinking about to those who are having a worse time, it doesn’t change the fact I’m in pain. Or doesn’t solve my problems, it may only help me to develop a positive attitude or to be more concerned about others.

You are responsible of everything that it’s showing up in your life, flip your way of thinking and it’s going to get better. This is bullshit, well, mostly. It could work when you’re griefing for the end of a relationship, or because what happens depends on your bad habits. You’re entitled to change your life and a positive mindset will be surely helpful. But this doesn’t work when you’re given to diseases, no way. I could face them better, but I won’t heal. I could be the best fighter and I can assure you I’m not sitting down here all day being a cry baby, but things only get worse.

There are things that can’t be changed, only faced, but I’m tired of fighting, really. Why me? And don’t tell me that life (or God, it depends on your belief) is giving me burdens I can bear, because I’m not that strong, really.

I can’t call myself a real fan of Linkin Park, I just loved their songs and be grateful to them because they introduced me to nu metal; then I started listening to Korn and POD and many others. I have a playlist on Spotify with the most meaningful songs of my life, among the many beautiful ones of Linkin Park, I chose “Crawling” because it has always touched me emotionally. How many times I’ve listened to it, curled up in my bed, crying. I added another one today, from the band’s last album, that is “One more light”; I find it devastating, all the lyrics of last album are shattering if carefully listened after Chester’s passing.

“Who cares if one more light goes out?
In a sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers
Who cares when someone’s time runs out?
If a moment is all we are
We’re quicker, quicker
Who cares if one more light goes out?
Well I do”

Goosebumps.

Many things have been written about Chester Bennington, the most heartfelt came from fans and colleagues, personally JD’s glistening eyes while talking about how much his songs influenced him and inspired him to make music, were more meaningful than a billion of empty words.

Media seized the moment to talk about mental illness, depression and how it’s important to ask for help. For sure: opening up to someone, therapy and meds works, but let me be brutally sincere: not all depressions can be cured. Not if you’re a grown up person who realised the real entity of their problem, if you’re trapped in a dark tunnel with no exit. Looking for help may help if you’re a young person who can still change their life, not if you’re Chester or Chris or someone like me. I know that depression will be on my side, I have good days, even excellent moments, but I know she’s always with me, ready to devour my sanity when I feel sick, hopeless, ignored or simply down.

Another thing. A real depressed person barely shows it or talk about it: look at Chester’s pics on his Twitter, read what he said about his new album or about his life (“I have such a lust for life now, such a positive outlook” he said). He looks happy and passionate, he loved his family, job and fans.

I’m wondering what Chester was thinking when he wrote his farewell letter to his friend Chris Cornwell, if the sentence “I pray you find peace in the next life” was something he hoped for himself.

Breast cancer is a devastating experience for a woman, she faces death and of course her first desire is to beat that monster. She also sees her body changing, she may lose her hair or go through a mastectomy and when the fight is over, her wish is to return quickly to her old life, to set a “new normal”. The thing I’ve often heard from cancer survivors is that they wanted to feel a whole again, but how is it possible when the scars remind them of what happened? Moreover, many of them got their nipples removed, so when they look at themselves in the mirror, they see a sort of alien.

Many hospitals offer a rudimentary tattoo and nipple re-pigmentation, but women should know that there are better options and that they come from those tattoo artists who practice a 3D technique. This makes inked nipples looking very realistic which, of course, helps women to regain self esteem.

Unfortunately many artists ask an incredible amount of money for that, something like an average price between 400 and 800$ per nipple (these are American prices, but here in Europe they aren’t cheaper at all). It’s a madness: why do you have to further charge a woman who got through a hard time of her life? There are several associations that help financially women, but I think it’s humiliating anyway.

Now here it comes the good news: there’s an American artist named Mark Corliss who do that for free, who tattoes stunning realistic 3D nipples getting back nothing but gratitude. This is amazing! It all started while he was covering with tattoed flowers some surgery scars and the costumer asked him to ink her nipples. He later found out how much other artist asked for that kind of work and decided to do that for free.

Other parlours should follow his example, I don’t say they all should do that for free, but definitely at a reduced rate.

Mark said: “The world needs some good right now, so I think it’s a good time to spread the word”, so, please, help him to share this, so it can go viral.

Mark Corliss works in Cape Cod Massachusetts. Visit his Instagram profile here https://www.instagram.com/mark_corliss_tattoo/ or at http://www.spiltmilktattoo.com for more info.

Please tell me if there are other artists who give cancer survivors 3D nipple tattoes without asking them money: I’ll be happy to add them to this post. Thank you.

Let’s be honest, sentences like “money doesn’t count” are sensible when you have enough of it to live and you don’t have to struggle to pay bills or say no to everything you like because you can’t afford it. Of course: family and friends are more important than money, I always say that I’m a millionaire if I look at the friends I have, but even if they’re beyond important with their support and love, it doesn’t bring food on my table.

My life was already bad due to health, now it’s going to get worse, because in two years my family will lose its fix income and all my ideas of earning money working from home, crashed against stupid Italian internal revenue system, according to which you need a VAT for everything and have to pay a fix tax even if you don’t earn nothing. (I still doing researches about home based jobs because I need something I can manage according to bad and good health days).

In the blink of an eye all the things I’ve built, planned, worked hard for, are going to disappear due to economical interests that thinks that a factory that is not productive enough, has to been shut down, no matter how many family this will affect.

Pope Francis recently said that closing factories and businesses and taking work (and dignity) away from men and women is a grave sin. If there’s a life after that, they will probably pay for that, but at the moment we are those who are having a living Hell on Earth. Words are uplifting, but aren’t enough.

The sad thing is that I sacrificed my happiness, dignity and self esteem for stability. I chose an abusive but stable relationship over a happier, but uncertain one. And now? Now all is gone. I’m starting having anxiety attacks and depression is stronger than ever. I tried, but never be able to commit suicide because of my loving one, at the moment, the only thing that stops me is the fear to fail, believe me, killing yourself is not as easy as you think and there’s a lot of things that can go wrong.

I wrote these last lines not because I’m an attention whore who needs pity and nice words, it’s a self reminding of how strong I am. Next post will be different and more useful, I promise: I have so many things to say and I will run this blog until I can afford internet connection.

I would say to those who lost their job to stay strong, to use this experience to start a new life, to be positive, but these are words that you can find on life coaches blogs. People who have money and don’t have to look into their children eyes telling them “I’m sorry, we can’t buy this”. I’m only a broken creature with no magic spell who’s trying to see the light even in the darkest times. Someone wrote that I’m a fighter through the fire: I should wear off my cape of self commiseration and take my sword.

Lack of inspiration today (too much chocolate, I think) so here’s a short, but meaningful post.

I thought that the most difficult question to answer to, was “Are you happy?” until JD started asking; “If you could do one thing in the world right now, what would it be?”.

I panicked. I poured out my huge bucket of wishes, trying to choose the most important of them, but they started jamming all at once to be noticed and be picked up, so I had a crowd of desires and no answer. Be healthy again, so I could work, earn money and be independent. Be rich, so I could cure myself and cut off my abusive relationship. Be able to travel, so I can fly away from this life I hate. Be younger, so things could be easier. Be… be… be…

So, in the end, I typed the easiest and most instinctive answer: “Kiss you”.

When I started this blog, I promised myself I would never vomit in it any complaint about my miserable life. I’m not a lame person or an attention seeker, but chronic illness made me fragile and living with a selfish person who doesn’t support me and rolls his eyes or complains about medical expenses or accuses me of faking diseases, doesn’t help at all. I’m lucky I have wonderful friends to lean on, but sometimes, like today, they’re not enough, so I have to use the healing power of writing.

I got very scared today: I was walking, no worries, no pressure, heading to the supermarket, then I felt a massive chest pain. I tried not to panic since at its worst, hiatus hernia pain can mimic that of a heart attack, but when my left arm went numb, I seriously started worrying. I rushed home (one of my biggest fears is to die alone in the street) and did yoga breathing exercises, chat with all the people I found online, because having also a panic attack was the last thing I needed. I drank an hot chamomile and stayed quiet until the symptoms kinda went away. In the meanwhile my mind had explored all the worst sceneries and dug out all my deepest fears. I don’t fear death, I just don’t want to leave things undone, I was looking around the room and thinking about the book to be given back to the library, to my unfinished fan-fiction, to all the things that I and only I, know, all the friends that would see me disappear without a clue, just because we don’t hang out in real life. These sorts of stupid little things. I texted a friend I called “Annoying pervert” yesterday, because I didn’t want that the last text of mine to him was that joking offence. And then I started thinking that I should tell more to my significant ones that I love them, at least my best friend has the task to tell JD how much I loved him in case I die suddenly, but the others?

I still feel crap, but better, so I decided to write this nonsense post to exorcise my fears and because I’ve always believed that writing sessions have a positive effect on my mind and, why not, on my stupid sick body.

There is something I’m always reluctant to talk about and it’s my unintentional weight loss. And while everybody seems having the opposite problem and struggles between diets and gym courses, it’s hard to say that I’m losing weight without dieting or increasing physical activity. To be completely frank, I never went to a gym, I love to walk, but the closest I can ever be to a sport, is yelling at the tv while watching football, rugby or golf.

So I never talk about this, because people won’t understand, they will probably say that I’m lucky and because I noticed that skinny people are often body shamed by being called unhealthy, bunch of bones or anorexic. Should I be ashamed of my skin and bones (just to say it in Coldplay’s words)? According to the nasty looks people give me on the beach, I should and that’s so unfair.

The real problem is not being fat or being thin, but looking at the others’ bodies to imitate them or to criticise them. No one is bearer of an absolute truth, let alone the perfect body type. So, look at yourself and yourself only, lose or gain weight only for health reasons or if you (and only you) like your body and stop thinking that people like underwear models are an evil example.

So here it comes the second part of this post: visiting Victoria’s Secrets store in London. I know, I already blamed those who go to London only to show their purchases in popular places, but in my defence, I have to say that I buy my underwear in the kids section and that I was dragged there, by someone who thought I would have loved luxury and invisible panties. Let me say that lace thongs are a big NO from me, since it’s like having a rose stem in the middle of the butt cheeks, but if you fancy sexy lingerie, here’s my tips.

There are three Victoria’s Secrets stores in London: one, I’ve never been to, is next to Brent Cross area, another one, the most famous, is located in Central London at 111 New Bond Street and you can get there by hopping off either at Bond Street or Oxford Circus station. It’s not hard to find, just a cross street of Regent’s Street.

The third store is inside the Westfield Mall, next to Sheperd’s Bush Station. Well, to be clear, there are two shops: the classic and bland Victoria’s Secrets and the Pink store for younger women that has cuter and more comfortable items (according to me). Anyway both have workout clothes, tank tops, underwear… just in a different style.

So, if you like this brand and you want to wear something sexy (and expensive) for a hot night under London stars, here you are. And don’t ask me what we bought, I won’t tell you: it’s a (Victoria’s) secret.